FUNERAL DISCOURSE, 



OS 



DAVID PERKINS PAGE, A. M., 



LATE PRINCIPAL 



OF THE 



STATE NORMAL SCHOOL, ALBANY, 



Delivered, Sunday ETening", Jan. 9, 1848* 



BEFORE THE EXECUTn'E COMMITTEE, THE FACULTY AND 
PUPILS OF THE SCHOOL, 



BY E. A. HUNTINGTON, D. D., 

PASTOR OF THE THIKD PRESBYTERIAN CHURCH, ALBAKT. 



7-7,r 



ALBANY: 
PUBLISHED BY E. H. PEASE &, CO., 

No. S2 State Street. 

1848. 



FUNERAL DISCOURSE, 



DAVID PERKINS PAGE, A. M., 



LATE PRINCIPAL 



STATE NORMAL SCHOOL, ALBANY, 



Delivered, Sunday ETening', Jan. 9, 1848, 



BEFORE THE EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE, THE FACULTY AND 
PUPILS OF THE SCHOOL, 

BY E. A. HUNTINGTON, D. D., 

PASTOR OF THE THIRD PRESBYTERIAN CHTTRCH, ALBANY. 



./ 



ALBANY: 
PUBLISHED BY E. H. PEASE & CO., 

No. 82 State Street 
1848. 






J. MUNSELL, PRINTER, 
ALBANY. 



CORRESPONDENCE. 



At a meeting- of the Executive Committee of the Slate Normal School, held in the 
School Room Building, January 1, 1848, it was 

Resolted, That the Rev. Dr. Hitntington, the Pastor of the Church to which Mr. 

Page belonged, be invited to preach before the Executive Committee, the Faculty and 

Pupils of the School, a Funeral Discourse, on the evening of the 9th of January. 

CHRISTOPHER MORGAN, Chairman. 
Wm. H. Campbell, Secretary. 



Albany, January 18, 1848. 
Rev. E. A HuNxmGTOK, D. D. : 

Dear Sir: — The Faculty and Students of the State Normal School, desirous that 
your interesting and instructive Discourse, occasioned by the death of their late Prin- 
cipal, David Perkins Page, should be made accessible to his friends, and those of the 
cause of Education generally, respectfully solicit a copy for publication. 
Yours, with the highest regard, 

J. M. WINCHELL, 
P. J. FARRINGTON, 
WILBUR MORGAN, 

Committee. 



Albany, January 18, 1848. 
Messrs. Wixchell, Farrington and Morgan : 

Dear Sirs : — It is a privilege to do what I can to perpetuate the remembrance of 

a man like Mr. Page, among his pupils and associates ; and I therefore yield to the 

gratifying request which you have communicated to me, from the Faculty and Students 

of the State Normal School, for the publication of my Discourse on their late Principal. 

I can only consent to publish it, however, with such additions as seem to be necessary 

to make it a correct, though it must remain a very inadequate, exliibition of his life and 

character. 

Fervently praying that you, and those whom you represent, may successt'ully follow 

him in his distinguished and useful career, as a Teacher and a Christian, 

I am, with much esteem, 

Very truly yours, 

E. A. HUNTINGTON. 



DISCOURSE. 



I. CORINTHIANS VII. 30. 
^nd they thai rejoice, as though they rejoiced not. 

This wise and salutary caution is sufficiently 
enforced by the recent mournful event which, this 
evening-, summons us to the house of God. The 
festive season has been suddenly overcast with 
gloom. The natural gladness of all hearts, at the 
commencement of a new year, has given place 
to universal sorrow. They that rejoice are as though 
they rejoiced not, for they have been taught by 
one of the most impressive lessons of Divine 
Providence, that the time is short, and that the 
fashion of this loorld passeth away. 

In compliance with your request, and, I may 
be allowed to add, with the irrepressible prompt- 
ings of my own heart, I undertake to improv 
this solemn occasion, and it is my design to 
exhibit the illustration it furnishes of the im- 



portance of a higher aim even than one which 
is unquestionably productive of the greatest 
benefit to mankind. Would that my ability 
were equal to my wish to elevate before you the 
pure and holy religion of the gospel, as the true 
end of life, in that view in which it is most 
strikingly presented in the history of him whose 
death we deplore. 

Every dispensation which, like the present, 
is adapted to arrest the minds of men and 
give a serious direction to their thoughts, has 
its peculiar divine admonition. Nor, unless 
this be regarded, can the event be contem- 
plated with profit, and the interest, however 
powerful, it at first awakens, must soon die 
away. It is the voice of God, which, when 
he maketh the clouds his chariot and walketh on 
the wings of the wind, imparts all its moral 
sublimity to the storm, and only that man, to 
whom the voice of God gives no uncertain 
sound amid the conflicting elements, will reve- 
rently bow and worship. Saul and they that 
journeyed with him to Damascus were all alike 
prostrated to the earth by the miraculous light 
which suddenly shone around them above the 
brightness of the sun, but his companions, re- 
ceiving no communication from on high, arose 



and passed on, to remember the glorious vision 
only as an unmeaning wonder, while Saul him- 
self, personally addressed by the Lord out of 
heaven, began from that moment to preach the 
faith which once he destroyed, and soon distin- 
guished himself as the mightiest champion of 
the cross. In the day of adversity consider, says 
the wisest moralist upon the vicissitudes of time. 
And no more decisive or painful proof of a cor- 
rupt generation, who regard not the work of the 
Lord, neither consider the operation of his hands, 
can be given, than that with which the prophet 
reproaches Israel, among whom, he declares, 
the righteous perisheth and no man layeth it to heart. 
With these reflections, it is gratifying to revert 
to the manner in which the messengers of God 
have, not rarely, even before those who are 
generally impatient of warning and reproof, been 
sustained and applauded in administering the 
most pointed and severe admonitions which God 
ever conveys in the strange and awful develop- 
ments of his mysterious providence. The page 
of history discloses evidence enough that he that 
rehuketh a man, afterward shall find more favor than 
he that flattereth with his tojigue. The pathetic 
parable of Nathan, so boldly spoken in the ear 
of the royal culprit, with that most condensed 



and powerful application — Thou art the man! — 
instead of stirring up the wrath of David against 
the prophet, filled him with self-reproach, and, 
repenting in sackcloth and ashes, he again be- 
came, as he had been before, the man after God's 
own heart. Honors were heaped upon the 
reluctant Daniel, because he dared to inter- 
pret to the troubled Belshazzar in the midst 
of his sacrilegious debauch, the ominous writ- 
ing on the wall — Thou art weighed in the bal- 
ances and art found wanting; thy kingdom is 
divided and given to the Medes and Persians. A 
higher reward crowned the boldness of Peter, 
in the conversion of thousands of his coun- 
trymen, when he charged them with the cruci- 
fixion, not as they supposed, of a blasphemer, 
but, of that Jesus whom God hath made both 
Lord and Christ. Nor did it diminish the esteem 
in which a Bossuet and a Massillon were held, 
in a period of almost unequalled corruption, 
when these eloquent prelates, pointing to the 
poor remains of all earthly greatness and glory, 
reiterated in the ears of a monarch, ever grasp- 
ing at dominion, those momentous truths of 
holy writ, which tarnish the diadem, debase the 
throne, reduce the most absolute potentate to a 
level with the meanest of his subjects, and open 



the graA^e and the depths of despah* for all 
together if they know not God and obey not the 
gospel of our Lord Jesus Christ. "I have heard 
other preachers and been pleased with them ; I 
hear you and am displeased with myself" ■ — 
such was the language of even Louis the Four- 
teenth to one of these celebrated divines. It is 
not surprising, therefore, that, in a more enlight- 
ened age, and in the presence of an audience 
already convinced of the supreme importance of 
religion, another, whom I may not name, for he 
is still living, never gained for himself greater 
or more just approbation than when, in this very 
city, he eloquently and successfully invoked the 
combined action of all classes of society against 
the law of honor to which the first statesman of 
the land had fallen a victim, and in favor of the 
law of God, to which that statesman, with his 
latest breath, subscribed as his only confidence 
and support, in view of the retributions of eter- 
nity. How, then, should I misjudge your feel- 
ings, could I for a moment suppose that you 
would wish me to neglect this sadly propitious 
opportunity to write vanity and vexation of spirit 
upon all earthly things, and to ennoble that 
character and that reward alone which rise 
immortal from the ruins of sin and death ! Es- 

2 



10 

pecially since, to accomplish this purpose, mine 
is not the odious though ofttimes necessary 
task, to reduce to their real insignificance those 
objects of human ambition upon which a ficti- 
tious value has been set by popular suffrage; 
nor to expose the absurdity and wickedness of 
principles which, though utterly opposed to the 
truth, have come to be regarded as right and 
praiseworthy by the majority of mankind. I 
am not called upon to warn you, either by the 
example or the fate of the lamented dead, to 
shun some glaring mistake into which he fell, 
and to learn, rather from his counsel than his 
conduct, to fear the Lord as the beginning of 
wisdom. " The holy angels accustomed to hover 
round these altars" need not "withdraw," because 
he furnishes the occasion to expostulate with a 
Christian assembly for observing or upholding 
usages unworthy of barbarians. It is my de- 
lightful privilege to have nothing to detract from 
the honor of his high station, or from the public 
estimate of the noble cause to which he devoted 
his life, in order to enhance by contrast the 
worth of his piety and the glory of his heavenly 
inheritance. Let that high station and that 
noble cause be regarded as they deserve to be, 
yet he who is most successful in them cannot 



11 

therefore calculate upon permission to enjoy 
them even for three score years and ten. 
However essential his services may seem to be 
to the welfare of his generation, and however 
innocent and justifiable his satisfaction with his 
allotment in a field of eminent usefulness, the 
proof is before you, as conclusive as it is melan- 
choly, that his life, like that of every other man, 
hangs in doubt, and that he may be abruptly 
separated from all that belongs to this world. 
Then let them that rejoice in the real blessings 
of time, rejoice as though they rejoiced not, and, 
while they do not despise earthly good, let them 
value above all price a treasure laid up in 
heaven. 

Education is not the enemy, but the hand- 
maid, of religion. He who succeeds in dissemi- 
nating knowledge among the people stands next 
to him who succeeds in turning many to right- 
eousness. And he who does both, the greater 
his elevation as a teacher, the more conspicuous 
his rank as a servant of Jesus Christ. Contem- 
plate him of whom we speak on that lofty height 
where, but yesterday, he stood towering from 
the midst of you, and there behold him as on a 
mount of transfiguration, dwelling in the pre- 
sence of a gracious Redeemer, with whom he is 



12 

ready to ascend to a yet loftier height to abide 
with him forever. How superior his excellence 
in his temporal calling, and how honorable his 
reward ! But, if for no other reason than 
because they are left behind when he goes hence 
to be no more, how worthless they appear in 
comparison with his attainments as a Christian! 
You may appreciate his zeal for the diffusion of 
knowledge, and his prosperity in this philan- 
thropic work, but you must appreciate still more 
the love of God shed abroad in his heart, and 
the incorruptible crown which it alone could 
place upon his head. 

Letters have always conferred a distinction 
upon those who have been versed in them, not 
inferior to the distinction of wealth, of birth, of 
dominion, or of arms. Poets, and philosophers, 
and men of science, have always taken at least 
an equal rank with the rich, and the mighty, 
and the noble, and the royal. Professors, the 
founders of academies, or raised to the chairs of 
famous universities, in order to initiate the few 
who have had the time, the talents, and the 
means to follow them into the secrets of nature, 
have always received the homage due to their 
profound and varied learning. Not so, however, 
with those who have consecrated their lives to 



13 

the instruction of the multitude in rudimental 
and practical truth. The time has been, nor has 
it long gone by, when the reputation borne by 
your beloved Principal, alike as a teacher and as 
a Christian, might have been looked upon as 
humble and contemptible. But it is the glory 
of our age and country that no such champion 
in the cause of popular education can live un- 
honored, to die and be forgotten. Instead of 
apprehending that I may magnify his well- 
earned fame, beyond your estimate of its com- 
parative worth, my only fear is that I shall fail 
to give an adequate expression to your just 
views of its real value. He toiled up, through 
a long and difficult way, to an eminence which, 
in your sober and rational judgment, but here 
and there another overshadoAvs. Alas ! that he 
was only permitted, like Moses, to catch a 
glimpse of the land he was so eminently quali- 
fied to subdue, and cultivate, and enjoy. But 
we may not give way to tears, since, like Moses 
too, his eye rested upon a brighter scene,* upon 
which he was ready and waiting to enter. Let 
us turn from the conspicuous spot where he fell, 

* " 0, when shall we awake in that bright world!" was 
one of his expressions, just after dictating his last counsels, 
and under the full conviction that death was approaching. 



14 

and whence he rose, in order to trace his course 
to it. 

Transfer yourselves, in imagination, to the 
place of his birth,^ a small farm in the town of 
Epping-, New Hampshire. His father, in com- 
fortable though not affluent circumstances, is 
desirous to retain him at home, to be his suc- 
cessor in tilhng the soil. But he manifests, at 
an early age, a predilection for study, and is 
bent on becoming a teacher. His father opposes 
his wishes. He needs him for the stay and the 
staff" of his old age. The strugglef goes on for 
years, between them, the son meanwhile exhi- 
biting an increasing partiality for the father's 
books, of which he has good store, rather than 
for his implements of husbandry, and diligently 
acquiring such knowledge as can be acquired in 
the excellent common schools of the neighbor- 
hood. Thus time rolls on, till at the age of 
fifteen or sixteen he is prostrated on a bed of 
sickness, and reduced to so feeble a condition 
that almost all hope of his recovery is aban- 

* Mr. Page was born, July 4th, 1810. 

t An affectionate struggle. It is the farthest from my inten- 
tion to convey the idea that the feelings natural to their 
endearing relations were at any time disturbed. According 
to all the accounts, no father could be more fond, no son more 
loving and durifuT. 



15 

doned. Just at the crisis of his disease, his 
despairing- father watching alone by his side, in 
the stilhiess of the night, he becomes suddenly 
sensible of a change for the better, and, with 
characteristic self-possession, seizes the moment 
of returning- consciousness to attain the end, of 
which, with characteristic perseverance, he has 
never lost sight. In a languid voice he speaks, 
and his father eagerly listens: 

"Father, I may not live, but I have one 
request to make, which I beg you to grant." 

"Any thing, certainly, my son," the father 
replies, with tears; "any thing which you can 
ask, and it is in my power to bestow." 

"My request, then, is, that, if I recover, you 
will no longer object to my going to the acade- 
my to prepare myself for teaching." 

Had that father heard a petition from that 
son's grave to the same effect, he could hardly 
have been more astounded. But his word is 
pledged, and as soon as his son, who now 
rapidly mends, is sufficiently recruited, he enters 
the academy at Hampton, New Hampshire, and 
commences the cultivation of his mind in good 
earnest. Nor must I omit to mention that, 
through the influence of his illness and other 
causes, he is led about the same time to make a 



16 

profession of his faith in the blessed Redeemer, 
and begins to look upon his chosen pursuit in 
the light, in which he ever afterward regarded 
it, as a sphere in which he must endeavor to 
promote the moral no less than the intellectual 
improvement of the rising generation. 

It would not comport with the proprieties of 
time and place to describe his dress, as he has 
been often heard with great good humor to 
describe it himself, at this memorable epoch in 
his life. Suffice it to say, that a home-spun, 
home-made, and out-grown coat, the only one 
he had, while it subjected him to now and then 
an unfeeling gibe from some fellow student, 
who had nothing but his " soft raiment" to 
boast of, also secured for him the staunch sup- 
port of those who could admire his resolute 
and manly character. But, more important 
still, it impelled him to depend, for the esteem 
of his companions, exclusively upon the embel- 
lishments of his understanding."^ 

* Those who know the difference between town and coun- 
try, in regard to dress, will know that he was comfortably 
clad for a farmer's boy. At home, he was by no means in 
want. At the academy, he was not in fashion. His father 
was both able and willing to help him, to a considerable 
extent — but as he was pursuing a course opposed to his father's 
wishes, he magnanimously resolved to draw upon him as little 
as possible. 



17 

A few months pass rapidly away, bnt they are 
not wasted, and he now feels that he may ven- 
ture to take charge of a common school. Gladly 
would he spend a much longer period in pre- 
paratory studies, but he relies upon his own 
resources, and to replenish them, he makes 
known to the principal of the academy his wish 
to enter upon his work as soon as he can be 
recommended. Presently his name is given to 
a gentleman-farmer, in search of a teacher for a 
neighboring district, who accordingly rides up 
to his boarding house, and, without dismount- 
ing from his horse, inquires from some one at 
the door for Mr. Page. Mr. Page appears. 
Casting a single glance at his unfortunate coat, 
the stranger dubiously remarks : 

" It is Mr. Page I wish to see." 

" That is my name, sir," is the abashed reply. 

Instantly recovering from the surprise which 
this reply rather tends to increase, and having 
learned from experience, or more probably from 
that sacred volume which sheds its heavenly 
light in every dwelling of New England, not to 
judge according to the appearance, the real gen- 
tleman at once invites Mr. Page to present him- 
self before the examining committee, with the 

3 



18 

assurance that if they are satisfied with his quali- 
fications he shall be entrusted with the school. 
If there are those in this assembly to whom 
such incidents seem mere trifles, there are 
others,. I know, who will regard them as turn- 
ing points in the history of a man, serving mate- 
rially to vary his course through life, and to 
produce results as wide apart as the poles from 
those which would otherwise have marked his 
destiny. So simple a circumstance as plain or 
mean apparel has kept many an ardent youth 
from his desired post till his ambition has 
flagged, or been diverted to another object. 
Had Mr. Page, for such a cause, failed to secure 
a school, at the period to which we refer, he 
would have been obliged to return to his father's 
farm, where it is not improbable that he would 
have remained, to devote his life to agriculture. 
On the other hand, had he possessed ample 
means of his own to prosecute his studies with- 
out interruption, his tastes and his aspirations 
would undoubtedly have prompted him to 
obtain a classical education, and to enter a 
learned profession. Then, instead of standing 
forth as one of the few conspicuous ornaments 
of the great cause he so triumphantly advanced, 
he might have been lost in that numerous host 



19 

of regularly graduated scholars, whose common 
glory no individual among them can hope to 
outshine. 

Returning to the academy, he continued in it 
a few months longer, and then left it, not to 
return again, having enjoyed its advantages in 
all less than a year. 

Once more he enters upon the business of 
teaching. Two winters are spent in the com- 
mon schools of Epping and Newbury-Byfield. 
While in the latter place, he walks every evening 
into Newburyport, two miles distant, in order to 
instruct a class in penmanship. Soon his pecu- 
liar adaptation to his calling begins to be dis- 
covered and appreciated. Little things, which 
to his believing spirit assume the aspect of pro- 
vidential dispensations, as they ought ever to be 
regarded, contribute to open and pave his way 
as he advances. Newburyport, a town of fifteen 
or sixteen*" thousand inhabitants, presents an 
inviting field, which a few discerning friends 
encourage him to occupy. His plan is to estab- 
lish a private school. But his father is more 
reluctant than ever to have him prosecute his 

* This estimate includes the population of Newbury, which 
shares a street with Newburyport. The two places are in fact 
one, though in different townships. Mr. Page resided in 

Newbury. 



20 

calling, now that it threatens to remove him 
permanently from home ; and is greatly alarmed, 
besides, with the idea that he may return under 
pecuniary embarrassments, disheartened and 
disgraced. He gains the paternal assent, how- 
ever, without which he is too dutiful to resolve, 
and then undertakes the certainly somewhat 
hazardous enterprise, to command the confi- 
dence and patronage of a highly intelligent and 
cultivated people.*" With five pupils, the first 
day, he proceeds quietly and hopefully to his 
labors, and before the term closes his school is 
full. He obtains a more spacious apartment — 
but applicants for admission are always waiting 
for vacancies. 

* The following extract from the truly beautiful tribute to 
his memory, paid by his former pastor, the Rev. Leonard 
Withington, at his funeral in Newbury, will show that he had 
difficulties to contend with not noticed in this discourse. I 
quote from the report of Mr. Withington's address, in the 
Watchtower, January 14, 184S: 

" The speaker declared that he had known Mr. Page for 
more than twenty years, and had seen him in the most trying 
situations ; he had been accused, opposed, suspected, and sur- 
rounded with attempts to put him down. But the speaker 
never saw him off his balance. He was always calm, cool, col- 
lected. He rose from every cloud with brighter effulgence, 
and was a coin more current for the wear. As his rise in his 
youth was rapid, envy and emulation were excited by his suc- 
cess. But he lived down all his enemies, and there were few 
men over whose solemn grave such a flood of tears would so 
sincerely fall." 



21 

Without any pretension to originality or 
novelty in his method of instruction, he re- 
lied dsolely upon the zealous and faithful dis- 
charge of his duties, pursuing, as he himself 
was wont to say, " the common sense course." 
On account of his limited advantages, he was 
obliged to teach himself, while he was teaching 
others. Many a branch of learning was as new to 
him as to the class he was to guide in the 
study of it, but they could never find him unpre- 
pared to relieve their difficulties, they could never 
detect him in a mistake. Of close observation 
and sound judgment, remarkably systematic in 
the arrangement of his business, and diligent 
in the improvement of his time, he not only 
became rapidly familiar with the usual routine 
of subjects pursued in the school-room, but by 
no means slowly enriched his mind with a fund 
of general information, especially in reference 
to the theory and practice of teaching. He 
found leisure, moreover, to explore, one by one, 
several of the most important departments of 
science; and as his knowledge was neither 
vague, nor superficial, nor inaccurate, but em- 
phatically the reverse ; gifted, too, as he was, 
with uncommon descriptive powers, he soon 
possessed a plentiful store of the best illustrations 



22 

of every point he was required to elucidate, 
together with the rare ability to employ them 
with skill and success.* Discerning the pecu- 
liarities of character and disposition almost 
intuitively, and deeply interested in the welfare 
of the pupils committed to his charge, he seldom 
if ever failed perfectly to control the most eccen- 
tric and perverse, and finally to effect an entire 
reformation in their feelings and deportment. 
Punctual to a proverb, the very genius of order, 
and cheerful as the day, firm but not severe, 
dignified but not haughty, social but not trifling, 
there was a charm about him as irresistible as it 
was benign and salutary. Above all, never for- 
getting the immortality of mind, and never 
losing sight of the eternal consequences of his 
influence over it, the moral force of his unaf- 
fected and fervent piety was, without ostenta- 
tion, constantly exerted and powerfully felt 
wherever his authority was acknowledged-! 

* A striking example, of which he is known to be the 
author, though he modestly speaks of himself in the third 
person, may be found in his book, p. 319. 

t The devotional exercises, with which it was his com- 
mendable custom to open his school in the morning, consti- 
tuted, in the judgment of those who participated in them, the 
strong arm of his singularly felicitous government. Not that 
he designed them for this purpose, but, marked as they were 



23 

But it would be idle to attempt to enumerate 
all the causes of his growing reputation and 
prosperity. 

Within five years from the time he first 
entered the Hampton Academy, he finds him- 
self an associate principal, and at the head 
of the English department, in the Public Gram- 
mar School of Newburyport. In this prominent 
situation he daily becomes more widely known, 
as a successful teacher. The rich fruits of his 
experience begin to be shaped into his popular 
and preeminently practical lectures, and in this 
form they are generously distributed for the com- 
mon good.* Leading minds look upon him as 

by humility, sincerity, and an affectionate solicitude for the 
highest good of his pupils, they invested him with a sacred 
character, which could not be approached with disrespect by 
the most thoughtless or wayward, and which inspired the con- 
fidence and love of all. Then, too, the spirit of reverence for 
a present God seemed to be imbreathed by these exercises 
through every soul, and its tendency to secure order, harmony, 
obedience and application, was seldom defeated by any sub- 
sequent occurrence of the day. This is unqualified language, 
but I am confident it will be unanimously sustained by all 
who have enjoyed his instructions, or been associated with him 
in teaching. His skill in music ought also to be mentioned 
among his qualifications for his profession. He had a power- 
ful voice, and fine ear, and threw his whole soul into the exer- 
cise of singing. 

* These lectures gained him great credit in this state, and 
won a host of friends for the Normal School, at the outset, 



24 

standing in the front rank of instructors in that 
state which has no superior, and hardly a rival, 
in the cause of education, and which measures 
the qualifications of its agents in this cause by 
the highest standard. In closing this period of 
his history, a period of twelve years, it is not too 
much to add, that through the whole of it he 
steadily increased in ivisdom, human and divine, 
and in favor with God and man. 

The scene changes, and we draw nearer home. 
Under happy auspices the Normal School of this 
state is established, and an annual appropriation 
made to sustain it for five years. The execu- 
tive committee is most judiciously selected, and 
upon them, of course, devolves the organization 
of the new institution. They tremble under the 

when so much depended upon the public opinion of its Prin- 
cipal. He delivered them, during vacation, before the Teach- 
ers' Institutes, many of which he attended in the course of 
three years. Last autumn he visited eleven counties, and in 
about thirty days lectured forty-seven times, having met, in all, 
more than a thousand of the teachers of the common schools of 
the state. No one could be more welcome in their asso- 
ciations. His talents as a speaker were much above medi- 
ocrity. The people crowded to hear him, wherever he went, 
and listened with undivided attention, sometimes for two 
hours. One of his happiest efforts is embodied in his book, 
in the chapter " On Waking Up Mind," and maybe taken as 
a fair specimen of his style. It could not be written out from 
a mere brief, without loss, but it was warmly declared, on one 
occasion, to be " the best lecture that was ever delivered." 



25 

responsibility of appointing its principal and pro- 
fessor. They know that every thing depends 
upon the choice they make of its first officers. 
But their diligence and prudence are equal to 
the emergency. After sufficient time for inquiry, 
they meet to compare notes, and having ascer- 
tained all the requisite information respecting 
difterent teachers of eminence, they resolve to 
come to an election. The late Francis Dwight, 
of whom I may make honorable mention since 
he is no more, had been induced to enter into 
correspondence with David P. Page, of New- 
buryport, on account of the high encomiums 
with which his name was uniformly pronounced, 
and on this occasion produces his letters. These 
letters are read, and the committee respond at 
once to the enthusiastic exclamation — " That is 
the man for us !" But a difficulty arises. They 
have never seen Mr. Page. His letters are weighty 
and powerful ; who knows but that in bodily jjre- 
sence he is weak, and in speech contemptible ? One 
of their number is forthwith appointed to visit 
him with the authority to present to him their 
unanimous invitation to take charge of the 
school, if the living epistle answers to the writ- 
ten. The result might have been anticipated by 
any one who ever saw him. At the same time, 

4 



26 

an equally propitious appointment is made of the 
Professor of mathematics.* Mr. Page removes 
to this city, and, in conjunction with his distin- 
guished coadjutor, in whom he finds a sympa- 
thizing friend, assumes his last and highest trust 
in the same glorious cause to which full seven- 
teen years of his life have already been devoted. 
Every body is at once prepossessed in his favor. 
The management of the school is universally 
approved. No display — no concealment. The 
enemies of the enterprise, if it has any, are alike 
disappointed because there is nothing behind 
the curtain to excite suspicion, nothing in view 
to be charged to the account of empiricism. All 
the talents and attainments of the Principal are 
brought into the field to purchase for the insti- 
tution a deserved and enduring reputation. For 
three years it rises uninterruptedly in the public 
confidence, and is styled at last, without impro- 
priety — The Glory of the State. The Principal 
shares its honors. It could not be otherwise. 

Perhaps no man in the midst of us has 
in so short a time become more generally 
known, or more highly esteemed, or more 
warmly beloved. His admirable adaptation 

* Prof. George R. Perkins, of Utica, since wisely chosen to 
fill tile viicuncy occasioned by tlie death of Mr. Page. 



27 

to his place, was from the first the theme of 
universal remark. While the choice of such a 
man redounds to the praise of the executive 
committee, it should, and 1 doubt not does call 
forth the grateful thanksgivings of every lover of 
the commonwealth to that God who has de- 
clared that wisdom and knowledge shall be the sta- 
bility of the times which he will delight to bless, 
and who fulfills one of his most gracious promises 
when many run to and fro, and knowledge is in- 
creased. 

It is difficult to sketch in few lines a correct 
and striking portrait of him whose course we 
have thus far attempted to follow. The artist 
can readily produce the expression of a counte- 
nance which is remarkably irregular, but he 
finds it a harder task to bring out a likeness if 
each separate feature of the original bears its 
due proportion to the rest. We have been con- 
templating an unusually symmetrical character. 
By no means an ordinary man, even to the eye 
of a stranger, he did not attract attention by one 
predominant excellence, the bare mention of 
which, by itself, would raise his image to the 
view. He came here in full maturity, and with 
yet undiminished vigor. The various traits 



28 

which distinguished him had reached their per- 
fection, not one of them dwarfish, not one of 
them gigantic, when compared together, but all 
equally developed. He was just what a teacher 
should be, a model for youth. His principles 
derived from the highest source, he not only 
inculcated but obeyed them, for he was a com- 
plete master of himself On this account, in his 
case, that which seldom happens, the man and 
the author were the same. In his invaluable 
guide to the inexperienced teacher, he has for- 
tunately left his own delineation of himself, and 
probably better executed than it could have been 
by any other hand however expert. I cannot 
hope to succeed in grouping his peculiarities so 
that you shall recognize him in their general 
effect, though each one I mention may be ac- 
knowledged to be distinctive. Equanimity, 
never overcome even in the school room ; fore- 
sight, penetrating the future on all sides, and 
preparing him for every emergency ; prudence, 
the mistress of hand, and tongue, and eye, 
directing the slightest movement; industry, 
always outstripping obligation ;* these, as I name 

* It is astonishing how little he found to do in the 
prospect of death, and still more astonishing that he did that 
little with his usual calmness and precision, not an hour before 
his reason was dethroned. It seems as if he had been setting 



29 

them, do they not almost seem to be buried 
with him ? Who else possesses them all in an 
equal degree? Stability, frankness, courtesy, 
kindness, sympathy, must be awarded to him 
without reserve. Ever learning, especially from 
experience, and never forgetting; clear in his per- 
ceptions, fair in his representations, definite in his 
positions, comprehensive in his views ; delibe- 
rate, discriminating and impartial; if he was 
not a profound scholar, he was a wise, and safe, 
and most interesting teacher. He had a true 
thirst for knowledge, and the ability, in a very 
uncommon degree, to excite it in his pupils. In 
addition to this, the even balance of his various 
powers gave him a taste for the details of busi- 
ness. He took a real pleasure in regulating 
those small matters which in the aggregate 
throw a light or a shadow over every commu- 
nity, and above all, over a school. Without 
wasting a moment, scarcely a thought, without 
distracting attention, the insignificant causes 
often of great disturbances were quietly removed 
by a word, or a look, or a gesture. The inde- 
scribable attraction of the man, as well as of the 

his house iii order, for weeks before his last ilhiess, under the 
influence of presentiment. But if he had died ten years ago, 
such were his habits that, without doubt, the same remark 
could then have been made with the same propriety. 



30 

theatre of his labors, consisted not a little in the 
absence of petty annoyances, and the presence 
of unobserved yet not unfelt gratifications. His 
insight into human nature has already been no- 
ticed. This was, perhaps, his highest endow- 
ment. In connection with his benevolent spirit 
and decision of character, it saved his authority 
from all useless collisions with fractious and 
obstinate tempers, and secured a cordial sub- 
mission to all necessary restraints and require- 
ments. Hence the voluntary, cheerful, and pro- 
ductive industry which gave life and progress to 
the scene which he directed. He himself led 
the way, with his eye ever on the summit. We 
do not claim for him a finished classical or 
scientific education. But his attainments were 
various, and accurate, and important, beyond 
those of many a philosopher. In the most cul- 
tivated society he was, not only agreeable, but 
instructive. He had something to give for what- 
ever he received, and generally an equivalent. 
At all events, in self-knowledge, and self-disci- 
pline, the ultimate end of study, he was not sur- 
passed, and hence the certainty of his success 
in any enterprise which he would venture to 
undertake. Advancing step by step, as his 
strength increased, he was sure to hold each 



31 

new post with ease, and confidence, and appro- 
bation. Where last he soared, he sustained 
himself on steady wing, without a tremor. But 
one arrow could reach him, and that would 
compel him to stoop, only for a higher flight. 

It is customary and proper, yea more, it is 
obligatory, when eulogizing the worthiest of 
men, to admit that they had their faults. This 
man had his faults. We know that he had 
them, for he died — alas for us that he died so 
soon! — and death has passed upon all men, for 
that all have sinned. I am not intentionally keep- 
ing back the evidences of his humanity. But, 
though, I doubt not, they were manifest enough 
to himself and to his God, they never attracted 
my attention ; or, perhaps, more correctly speak- 
ing, they never assumed such a distinct and per- 
manent form before my mind as to enable me 
to classify and name them. This is my only 
reason for leaving my outline of his character in 
this respect still more defective than in others. 
But, whatever may have been his corruption of 
heart, and it was originally like that of every 
child of Adam, whatever may have been its ex- 
hibitions in his conduct, it is consoling to reflect 
that over all was thrown, for more than half his 
life, the mantle of divine forgiveness. He was 



32 

a sinner, but he was a penitent sinner. He was 
a believer in the scheme of redemption, revealed 
in the gospel. He was an humble disciple of 
Jesus. His piety, though not at all of a secta- 
rian cast, was at the greatest remove from that 
indifference which so often takes the place of 
exclusiveness. He was a man of faith, and 
prayer, and works of righteousness and charity. 
This was his richest gift, and he so con- 
sidered it. It is not pretended that he did not 
miagnify his office as a teacher, that he did not 
exalt the cause of popular education, that he did 
not glory in his successful promotion of that 
cause, or that he did not enjoy the reputation it 
gave him. Nevertheless is it true, emphatically 
true, that he felt in his soul the comparative 
worthlessness of all things seen and temporal, 
and that he set his heart on the treasure laid up 
in heaven. The uncertainty of life, the nearness 
of death, were not mere speculations in his 
mind. He acted upon their truth. He knew 
that when his summons came, he could carry 
nothing away. As a pilgrim and stranger here, 
he taught us all by his example, no less than by 
his end, to rejoice as though ive rejoiced not in this 
world's choicest favors, however honorably ob- 
tained or benevolently used ; but, assured that 



33 

the time of our departure is- at hand, so to live 
that we may count it gain to die. Pardon me 
that I linger thus upon his character. I am 
reluctant to proceed in his history. But I yield 
to the painful necessity. 

In three years Mr. Page, together with 
his associate, no less eminent than himself 
in a different sphere, and aided by a corps of 
excellent teachers selected by the wisdom of 
both, had imparted the most valuable and last- 
ing reputation to the Normal School; and so 
completely did he fill his place at the head of it, 
that he was felt, by the executive committee, 
the faculty, the students, and the people through- 
out the state, to be almost essential to its pros- 
perity, if not to its existence. All the friends of 
the institution, and all the recipients of its bene- 
fits, to use that good old English expression, 
were " bound up in him." It was characteristic 
of the man, that he so identified himself with 
his station, whatever it might be, that he seemed 
the life and soul of it. Thus, but a few days 
since, he was all to his family, all to his Bible- 
class, all to his school; a strong and polished 
pillar in his church, the ornament and pride of 
his adopted state. I see him in better health 



34 

than usual, with buoyant spirits, dismissing his 
pupils to their winter recreations, and preparing 
himself to revisit his former home, expecting to 
participate in a scene of all others the most un- 
like that in which he is unconsciously about to 
be the chief actor. At the door of the school- 
room all save his family and a few intimate 
friends lose sight of him. He is supposed, for 
more than a week, to be far away, giving himself 
up to the most innocent and refreshing enjoy- 
ments, in the society of his kindred and of the 
cherished companions of other days. But, un- 
beknown to the community in the midst of 
which he remains, he is suddenly engaged in 
that warfare from which there is no discharge. 
All the circumstances combine to conceal his 
perilous position. Nature herself wraps it in 
thick and gloomy mists, from public observa- 
tion. The conflict goes on for nine wearisome 
days, and yet more wearisome nights. The 
good soldier is nearly exhausted in bodily 
strength, though the spiritual man is propor- 
tionably invigorated, when, at eventide, the last 
day of the old year, the report spreads like a 
panic that he is dying! — followed, after the 
hush of the night, just as the first morning of 
new year dawns, by the more stunning report 



35 

that he is dead ! When has the great destroyer 
erected such a beacon on a more conspicuous 
spot, the threshold of a year? If such a man 
may be cut off in the midst of his days, who 
can depend upon the necessity of his services 
in any cause, however good, as a pledge of long 
life ? To the most philanthropic citizen, to the 
most faithful Christian, to the whole community, 
and to all the members of the church to which 
he belonged, his death is no ordinary warning, 
whether the time, the circumstances, or the vic- 
tim be considered, that they know not what shall 
be on the morrow ; that, since to each one of them 
the end of all things is at hand, they should be sober 
and watch unto prayer, being ensamples unto thejlock 
of God, that when the Chief Shepherd shall appear 
they may be prepared to receive from his hands 
a crown of glory thatfadeth not aioay. 

It is no exaggeration to assert that the death 
of Mr. Page was a heavy bereavement to two 
contiguous states, and that the news of it, 
simultaneously communicated to their extremi- 
ties by an electric shock, broke up the fountains 
of sorrow in the hearts of the friends and sub- 
jects of popular education throughout both, and 
on all sides, far beyond their limits. 

But what avails it to the widowed wife to 



36 

repeat, what has been so justly proclaimed, that 
" his death is a public calamity" ! What, to 
say that it subdued the joyous spirit of the 
season to sadness, and filled every house and 
every heart with grief and commiseration! 
" Tell me not," she answers, " that, when the 
husband is gone, the teacher is lamented. Tell 
me rather that when both die, the Christian sur- 
vives. Let me revert to his calm confidence in the 
Resurrection and the Life, when certain that he 
is grappling with the King of Terrors. Let me 
behold him, when the struggle is over, though 
divested of all that in which, here below, he 
could only rejoice as though he rejoiced not, in 
the full possession and fruition of blessings 
which eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have 
entered into the heart of man ; the things which God 
hath prepared for them that love him. Let me hear 
him say: 'It is a solemn thing to die, but if it 
is the will of God, I die cheerfully, for my trust is 
in the Savior of sinners !' Be my consolation in 
the evidence of his eternal rest, and in the good 
hope through grace of eventually sharing it." 
God grant thy prayer, stricken mourner, and 
bind up thy broken heart ! May He be unto 
thee, and unto thy fatherless children, an ever- 
lasting portion. 



37 

To the afflicted pupils of the Normal School, 
let me say, that the impulses and aspirations of 
deep sorrow are far more in accordance with 
the real wants of the soul than the feelings and 
desires in any other state of mind. It is always 
wisest to aim after that which, in the hour of 
mourning and in the heart overflowing- with 
grief, assumes the greatest importance. Do not 
understand me to urge you to give up the wish, 
and the ambition, with which your beloved 
Principal inspired you, to distinguish yourselves 
in the useful and honorable profession for which 
you are preparing. But I would most earnestly 
beseech you to make it your first object to imi- 
tate him in your devotion to that higher and 
holier cause for which he chiefly lived, and 
through which, we trust, he has obtained the 
incorruptible crown. Bear witness, if I have 
flattered his religious character. If not, then as 
you loved, trusted, and admired him, walk with 
him through evil and through good report in the 
footsteps of Jesus Christ. You have felt the 
influence of his whole deportment in this direc- 
tion, while he was yet with you. Now that you 
sorrow most of all because you shall see his face 
no more, call to remembrance his words and 
example, alike for your instruction and encour- 



38 

agement in the way of life. How faithfully he 
reproved you when you strayed; how solemnly 
he warned you of the danger of a course of sin; 
how tenderly he sympathized with you in your 
trials, of which no ear but his ever heard; how 
kindly and constantly he administered to your 
wants and ensured your comfort in sickness, 
here among strangers, far away from your 
homes! Through the sleet and the storm, to 
the last, would he go to your lodgings, often a 
Sabbath-day's journey, after dark, in order to 
cheer and relieve you. So would he exhibit 
that character which is the fruit of the faith of 
the gospel, and by it, he being dead yet speaketh. 
In that character, study to be like him, if in 
nothing else. Then shall his removal prepare 
the way for your own to the better land. 

I can only say to the associate Professor and 
fellow teachers of our departed friend, that you 
have in his early death a motive, to which my 
words can give no additional weight, for double 
diligence in your responsible station, and for 
keeping your lamps trimmed and burning, since 
you know not the hour when the Son of Man 
cometh. 

No personal application I can make of the so- 
lemn and afflictive dispensation which has occa' 



39 

sioned this discourse, would impress its painful 
but important lesson more indelibly upon your 
minds, honored members of the executive com- 
mittee, than it has already been impressed by di- 
vine power. In regard to its effect upon the 
school you sustain not more officially than cor- 
dially, great as the calamity is, which has depriv- 
ed you of your strong arm, it is attended with the 
consolation that he has left the institution under 
a firmly established system, most excellent in 
itself, most favorably regarded, and compara- 
tively easy to be maintained. You have no 
reason, therefore, to be disheartened in your 
glorious work. May the same overruling Pro- 
vidence, which has hitherto blessed your exer- 
tions, continue to bless them, till you too are 
called to your reward. 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



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